


session 01: don't stop the music

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Series: 12 little sessions (with bonus track) [2]
Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: sometimes you don't know what you've got until you've got it in the crosshairs.good thing your aim is shit.
Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Vicious
Series: 12 little sessions (with bonus track) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623682
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	session 01: don't stop the music

**Author's Note:**

> There's a slight timeline divergence in that in this story, Ed joins the Bebop before Vicious is introduced in the Ballad of Fallen Angels.

**_[Earth to Heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18yrInTU-Vk%C2%A0) by Esperanza Spalding_ **

_ Thought and strength and breath _

_ Ain't much else left _

_ Better have your fill before you know _

_ It's over, say the natural laws _

_ And if the heavenly gods should call _

_ Is it heaven at all _

_ Sober _

Spike’s body aches in a hundred places, covered in scrapes and bruises. His shoulder burns every time he moves, thanks to Vicious and his katana, and he can’t walk without a limp. 

But he will. He’ll make a full recovery, and he owes it all to Jet, Faye, and that seedy doctor holed up in his own lab on an asteroid who Jet likes to call about every medical problem from toenail fungus to gunshots. 

He is grateful to them for it, even if right now he’s too stunned by their staggering stupidity to express it. 

“That’s Vicious,” he says, pointing at the man restrained to the bed by handcuffs that are probably utterly inadequate. “You know that’s Vicious, right?” 

Vicious watches him with narrowed eyes, but says nothing. He’s wrapped in more bandages than Spike is, his left leg in a rigid white cast. But even like this, he could probably kill everyone in the room except Spike without breaking a sweat. 

“Now calm down,” Jet says. 

“Oh, I’m calm,” Spike says, his whole body thrumming with anger. “I’m totally calm. Except that there’s a fucking Red Dragon assassin on my fucking ship! And it’s Vicious! What were you thinking?” 

“You owe him,” Jet says, crossing his arms. “He jumped out of a window after you and broke your fall.” 

“Not true.” Vicious tilts his head, his hair hiding whatever expression might be on his face. “I fell. When the grenade went off.” 

No one can avoid seeing the past like Spike can, even as he’s held prisoner to it. He remembers the glass shattering behind his back, and how he discovered falling isn’t any different than flying if you just let go. He remembers Vicious, staring down at him from the jagged hole in the cathedral window. 

And then Spike looks away, squeezes his left eye shut, refuses to see the rest. 

He doesn’t need to know what happened. This is  _ Vicious. _ There’s no way he sacrificed his own safety to save someone’s life, especially if that someone was his hated enemy. Spike hasn’t forgotten what kind of creature Vicious is, even if everyone else on the Bebop is suffering from temporary insanity. 

Without another word, he stalks out of the room, fists clenched and his breath coming hard and fast. 

“He’ll come around,” Faye says as he leaves. 

“He won’t,” Vicious replies, and as Spike drags his half-healed body down the hallway, cursing every little bump and turn, he silently agrees. 

He rummages under his cot for the pistol he keeps there in case of emergency. If there ever were an emergency requiring a bullet-based solution, this is it. 

He’s so intent on getting back in there and blowing Vicious’ fucking brains out that he doesn’t see the goddamned dog trotting beneath his feet until it’s too late. With every limb swaddled in bandages and still healing from dozens of lacerations, his balance is completely shot. He goes down with a pitiful yelp, hitting the cold metal ground hard. 

Ein trots up to him and starts licking his face, and he can’t even muster the energy to bat the stupid animal away before he passes out from the pain. 

_ — _

_ There are no perfect amends here / You get to just keep on getting there, getting there _

_ — _

“Faye and I got wind of a bounty nearby,” Jet says, tucking some ammo into his pocket. “It’ll be quick. Easy money.”

“Fine,” Spike mumbles. 

“Be good until we get back,” Faye says, striding into the room, her white boots clicking against the floor. 

“And stay away from Vicious,” Jet adds sternly. 

Spike rolls his eyes but mutters a vague assent. He waits for a good ten minutes after he hears them take off before he rolls to his feet. He doesn’t know what happened to the arsenal he was carrying with him to the church, or the pistol he was planning to use on Vicious before the dog tripped him. But he’s made the Bebop his home over the last few years, and that means there are weapons stashed literally everywhere. 

_ It’s a good thing Edward is smart enough not to shoot her fucking eye out, _ he thinks, pulling a gun out of the holster taped to the underside of the couch. He checks the sight and the ammo, then gets to his feet. He’s still unsteady, lacking his usual grace, but at least he knows Vicious is in worse shape, even if Jet keeps saying that’s the case because Vicious used his own body to cushion Spike’s fall. 

But Jet wasn’t there. He doesn’t know  _ anything. _

Spike makes his way down the hall, moving quietly and listening carefully. Vicious is not an opponent to be underestimated. He freezes in place, flattened against the wall, when he hears voices coming from the next room. 

“Radical Edward read about you, Mr. Crow.” 

“Did you.” Vicious still talks like he has a throat full of gravel. 

“Yes. Mr. Crow is a rising star in the Red Dragon syndicate. They call him the Venomous Snake, which is funny because you are a crow and not very venomous at all, or else Spike-person would be dead.” 

“Clever.” Hearing Vicious speak is like being jolted with just enough electricity to be annoying. Spike scowls, sneaking closer to the door. 

“Mr. Crow, Mr. Crow,” Edward singsongs. “Why did you come here?” 

“LIke you say. I am not a very good snake. Maybe I would like to be something else.” 

“Like a crow?” Edward asks. “I think you could be a crow.” 

“Men like you don’t change,” Spike says, stumbling through the doorway with his gun in his hand. Over the last few minutes, the weapon has become very, very heavy, as has the rest of his body. 

“Go lay down, Spike,” Vicious says. It’s infuriating how Vicious keeps blurring in and out of Spike’s vision, making it impossible to get an accurate aim. 

“Shut up and hold still,” Spike growls. He raises the gun, his arm trembling with the exertion. “Fucking asshole. You can’t even die right.” 

“Spike-person!” Edward’s fluffy orange hair is right there, in front of the barrel of the gun. “Don’t kill Mr. Crow. Jet said not to.” 

“His name is...Vicious,” Spike hisses, just before he collapses. 

_ — _

_ There's no promise or test here / You get to just keep on getting there, getting there / Soldier _

_ — _

The next time he approaches Vicious’ door with a gun in his hand, Spike is feeling a lot better. He’s steady on his feet and while it still hurts to move, it’s that agitating, itchy kind of pain that means he’s healing. 

“You’re cheating,” Vicious says, and Spike pauses in the hallway, thinking he’s somehow been discovered, until he hears a wry, feminine laugh. 

“You can’t prove it,” Faye says. “It’s not like I have sleeves I can hide cards in. I--Hey!” 

“Just as I thought.” 

Spike pokes his head cautiously around the corner to see Faye sitting at Vicious’ bedside, a card table between them. Atop it is the cup and dice she uses to swindle Jet out of of whatever she can get. 

Vicious is holding the little anklet she uses to cheat just out of her reach. Spike wonders how he got his hands on it so quickly. 

“Such an inelegant solution,” Vicious says, turning it over in his hands. “Hello, Spike.” 

“Vicious,” Spike growls, stepping into the room with his gun drawn and aimed squarely at Vicious’ head, his face obscured by that stupid silver hair he never takes the time to brush. “Got any last words?” 

Vicious’ gray eyes meet his across the room, shocking the air from Spike’s chest. Vicious has always been like this, intense in a way that can unexpectedly knock Spike off balance. While Spike has been accused of never giving a fuck about anything, Vicious has always been the opposite. 

“What’s all this?” Jet’s voice comes from behind Spike, but he doesn’t turn to look. “Oh, come on.” A sturdy metal arm grabs Spike’s. “What the hell have I been telling you? Don’t fight on my ship!” 

“If you kill me here, you’re going to have to clean up a lot of blood,” Vicious says, practical as ever. “You may as well wait.” 

“I like a man who thinks ahead,” Faye says, snatching her anklet back from him. “Jet, I’ll give you five to one odds on which of them is going to kill the other one.” 

Vicious says nothing as Faye and Jet continue to bicker, and Spike helplessly lowers his gun. 

_ — _

_ No virgins or saints here / You get to just keep on getting there, getting there _

_ — _

Spike creeps down the hallway to Vicious’ room for what is definitely going to be the last time. Jet and Faye are off turning in their bounty, Ed and Ein are hacking into some super secure database, and so the only person who can stop Spike is Vicious himself. 

Vicious is not to be underestimated, but Spike is clever and sneaky, and has the upper hand in that his broken bones are mostly healed. 

Nothing but silence emanates from the room, so Spike moves in, silent and quick, his gun raised and aimed in less than a second. And then— _ goddammit _ —he hesitates. 

Vicious is asleep. He’s kicked the blankets off and is lying curled on his side, a mess of long limbs at tight, uncomfortable angles. His left leg is stretched straight, strapped to a splint, and his hair falls over his forehead, obscuring one of his eyes. 

It’s strange, but having Vicious here, beside the familiar interior of the Bebop, feels right, past and present lining up side by side as they do in Spike’s mind. 

Spike covers his right eye with his free hand. Through his left, he’s looking up at the broken cathedral window, the shards of glass all around him glinting golden in the dying light. For a moment, it’s just him, the cutting wind rushing past his face. 

And then—the blinding flare of the grenade and Vicious--not falling through the air but diving with definite purpose. Vicious’ arms hook around him, pulling them close together in the kind of embrace they’ve never given each other. Vicious turns his back to the ground, holding Spike to his chest as the concrete rapidly rises to meet them. 

_ — _

_ All good children and evil / Are even here just getting there / War man's cross on their / Shoulders _

_ — _

“At least he’s gone,” Spike says. He’s sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Faye is beside him, smoking as they watch the latest episode of Big Shot. “Good fucking riddance, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Faye says, tapping ash onto the floor. Jet is going to fucking kill her, but it’s not Spike’s problem. “I thought he was kind of handsome. You know, in that dark, brooding way.” 

Spike rolls his eyes, utterly disgusted. Of course Faye would have awful taste. 

“Oh, this one’s worth a whole five hundred million woolongs?” the blonde on the TV squeals. “That’s a lot!”

“Not bad,” Spike says, putting his feet down. He’s finally healed enough to go hunting, and he’s also going stir crazy. “You wanna give it a go, Faye?” 

“Oh, sure, why not?” Faye says. 

“Hold your horses!” the other Big Shot announcer says. “We’ve got some breaking news. Word just came in that this guy has already been caught! He was booked at a local police station an hour ago.” 

“Geez, I wonder who picked him up?” Spike says, scratching his head. That bounty was no joke, and no average cowboy could have finished so soon. 

“Who knows,” Faye says, slouching back onto the couch and lighting another cigarette. 

“Mr. Crow, Mr. Crow!” Edward dances her way through the common area, followed by Vicious, who’s carrying two very suspicious brown paper bags. 

“What the hell!?” Spike gets up off the couch, pistol in hand. “Who invited you back here?” 

“Your captain.” Vicious doesn’t pause or shorten his strides, so Spike is forced to hurry after him into the kitchen. “Said there was room, so long as I could bring in bounties.” 

“What now?” Jet sticks his head out of the kitchen. “Oh, Vicious. Is that your ship in the hanger?”

“Your ship is here?” Spike tugs at his hair, feeling like his entire world is rapidly falling to pieces. “You’re kidding, right? This is all some kind of elaborate joke?” 

“Did you bring  _ groceries _ ?” Jet looks as pleased as Spike has ever seen him, taking the bags from Vicious and setting them on the counter. “Well well. Looks like there will be beef to go with your bell peppers tonight, Spike.” 

Vicious nods at Jet and leaves without even acknowledging Spike’s presence. 

“Jet,” Spike says, his voice thrumming with unspent fury. “You know my attitude about women, dogs, and children, right?” 

“Hmm, there’s also some shiitake mushrooms in here. Fresh ones, too.” 

“How about this,” Spike says, jerking the bag away so Jet has to look at him. “Who do you think I hate more than anyone else in the entire universe?”

“I guess that’d probably be Vicious,” Jet says good naturedly, tugging the bag out of Spike’s grasp to rummage through it further. 

_ “Then why the hell is he on my ship!?”  _

“I don’t know, Spike,” Jet says. “But I’m telling you, he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Just give it time. Maybe you’ll even be friends.” 

“Ugh.” Spike is too disgusted to even come up for an answer to that. He reaches for the grocery bag, poking his head inside. “Gimme that. I better make sure he didn’t poison anything.” 

“Save enough for the others,” Jet says cheerfully. “We’ve got an extra mouth to feed now, you know.”

“Ugh,” Spike mutters again, because there really isn’t anything else to say. 

_ All legacies end here _

_ You get to just keep getting there, getting there _

_ No promise or test here _

_ You get to just keep getting there, getting there _

_ KEEP ON GETTING ON……….  _


End file.
